My Name Is Aerith
by LadyNaore
Summary: Outwardly, Aeris is portrayed as an angel; the innocent and pure white mage. What if that wasn't true? What if she was viewed differently than the game lets on? This is her story.
1. Prologue: The Slum Witch

Author's Note Well, I decided that since this is Aerith's story, that I skipped over too much of her life. I've decided to backtrack and write more on her childhood. Rest assured, when the time comes, the old chapters will return ^_^ But for now I wish to elaborate more on how she met Sephiroth, Zack, Tseng, etc... everything the game kinda skims over but never quite explains.

--*--*--

Fanatics find their heaven in never ending storming wind   
Auguries of destruction be a lullaby for rebirth...   
Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for awhile   
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past...

---- .hack//SIGN- "Key of the Twilight"

--*--*--

Growing up in this place, you tend to have a different outlook on life. There are countless lessons I've had to learn... most were learnt the hard way. I wouldn't have it any other way; I wanted to 'suck the marrow out of life,' as were the words of an author of the past. I admit times were bad here in the slums-in fact they were downright terrible-yet we had no choice, and I kept reminding myself that things could be worse. Things could always be worse. Conditions were bad, but they could still get worse. The only way I saw possible would be if the pits of hell opened underneath us and swallowed every square foot of Midgar and its slums...  
  
Wait... would that really make any difference?  
  
...I think too much.  
  
Looking through the aged, waxy-looking glass of my bedroom window, I see the seedy halogen lights from the plate shining on the dirt and garbage below, tiny twinges of bright light reflecting off the various scraps of metal and the like. It's nothing special. It's trash, being shone on by trashy light. Even at night, it was day here. It was day because you were afraid to sleep. You had no lock on your door. You couldn't sleep because you were afraid; afraid that you would be robbed, raped, murdered... or worse. Or perhaps you finagled a lock from the piles of trash, and you had a slice of safety knowing you wouldn't be a midnight snack to the Whole Eaters. And maybe you still couldn't sleep. You stayed awake, haunted by images of your past, seeing visions of inhumane experiments, hearing voices no one else could hear. Maybe you stayed awake for days, even weeks on end, because you held conversation with the Planet.  
  
Ah... but I doubt there could be anyone with the same problem as I.  
  
I'm a hybrid-a half-breed human and Cetra. My mother was Cetra, and I'm her hope for the future, the last shine of hope for our Ancient blood. No matter how small the genetic slices get as the generations descend, blood is blood and Cetra is Cetra. You could be 1% Ancient and be equal to a half or full blooded one. Heh, if there were any left besides me of course. I'm the Planet's protector. A great task left to me, the last of the once great race... and I'm still young. I'm only 22. Most slum girls have fantasies of marrying their Prince Charming at this age and moving on to a new life, living somewhere away from the jobs at Honeybee Inn, away from the trash, the blood, the monsters... human and animal. I had a dream like that once. But all 9-year-olds dream like that, while sipping imaginary tea from a china set. Or in my case, a tin can. I suppose that dream is still alive within me, but living in a slum can numb anyone's emotion to jelly.  
  
I'm different. I'm strange. I talk to the Planet. I grow flowers.  
  
Yes, flowers. They are small miracles here, and the bigger miracle is the sunlight that appeared one day. I spoke to the Planet one night, just before my 11th birthday... the Planet and I, we speak to one another like old friends. It's an advantage and a privilege I suppose. But I woke up that morning to find the miracle of sunlight beneath the plate. There were two cracks in the plate-one above my home and the other above the dilapidated church in the neighboring sector. So I grow flowers. The other residents of these slums have different opinions on them. I'm spoken of as three main things-a miracle worker, a freak, or a witch.  
  
The last two are the most frequent. But, I don't care. Like I said, living down here can give you a different outlook on life, and numb your emotion. Everyday life is just ... a continuation of many zombie-like events. That's the way I think of things. Me, the freak. The witch. The girl that talks to herself. The young lady that grows the flowers. The orphan. The Cetra.  
  
My name is Aerith. And this is my story.


	2. Wasted Childhood

Now you're too close to the pain   
Let all the rain go further  
Come back and kiss me in vain  
Mother, oh, do not bother...

----- .hack//SIGN "A Stray Child"

--*--*--

It was inhumane. It was absolutely criminal what occured daily in the labs of ShinRa. Those were my more torturous days...

--*--

A small girl sat in the corner of her bleak, gray cell, eyes swollen from tears and face red. She had been crying, yes, but she could cry no more. No matter how much she cried, she would never get to see Mama. It had been like this for most of her young life. Her childhood was spent under needles and prying eyes, while other children spent their days under the sun and the swings. 

"I want my Mama..." the child whispered forlornly. Her arm hurt... it always hurt when that bad man touched her. She wanted it all to go away, she wanted them to leave her alone and bring her to her Mama.

All of her memories were spent in this lab. Except for her faintest memories, those that clung onto her mind depserately. Memories of snow, of warm blankets and a smiling face with whiskers that tickled.

Her Papa.

Papa was returned to the Planet. She knew because Planet told her. Planet said that her daddy was safe, but her mother wasn't. Planet said not to worry, that in time she would get out.

But she wanted to get out now... she wanted to see her Mama again. She didn't want any more bad men touching her or poking her with needles and making her hurt. She didn't want to have any more nightmares or be cold anymore in this sad room. She... just wanted a home.

Aerith began to sob again when she heard her door open. She winced, expecting one of those bad men to come and hurt her some more.

But, no. A little boy with short silver hair and glowing green eyes sneaked into her room. "You, come with me! Quickly!"

She was confused. "Why? Who are you?"

"I'm Sephiroth. I can get you out of here, and your mother."

"Why would you?"

"I'll explain later! Just follow me, and keep quiet, allright?"

--*--

Yes I remember when I first met Sephiroth, there in my own personal hell. He saved me from that dank prison. And he tried to save my mother as well. He got us out of the building, but the guards caught him... he... gave up his freedom for my mother and I. From then on, I was eternally grateful to him.

Mama and I had snuck onto a train. She ... had been shot twice in the chest by a ShinRa guard. By the time we got to the Sector 7 station...

--*--

"Mama?! Mama, are you ok?" Aerith yelped as her mother collapsed on the stairs. Ifalna looked up at her beloved daughter, a sad smile on her face.

"Aerith, all will be well. Don't worry about me, I'll be with you always, just as the Planet will be." She winced. "My dear, reach into my pocket and take out my Materia.

Aerith obliged and held the small orb with caution, afraid it would break. "Mama, what's this for?"

"Take care of it my dear. You'll understand. There is great power sleeping within you, and that Materia will help you to use it. Always... keep it safe." Ifalna coughed, blood spraying onto her chin and dripping on her dress.

"Mama! Mama!" Aerith began crying, "Help! Someone help my mommy!" She shook her mother desperately, when a hand touched her shoulder. She looked up and saw kind brown eyes looking down at her.

Elmyra looked at the small girl and then to what she assumed to be the girl's mother. Ifalna looked up, "Please... take care of Aerith..."

Ifalna said no more, as her head hit the pavement with a sickening crack.


	3. The Gift

Author's Note As a message to all my reviewers thus far: THANK YOU! Some of you may not realize just how much a simple review can boost the confidence and esteem of a writer.

Also, for those who are wondering why I portray Aerith in such a way: some of us tend to forget that under that happy, naïve shell, Aerith was and in the same essence, she was _not_ human. She had a mind and, I believe, she also had inner demons, which anyone could have when hearing voices in one's head. And since the game does show vague hints of Aerith's mortality (ex. Gongaga), I wanted to try to delve into that head of hers and bring it out for all to see.

Also, please don't complain if this story strays _slightly_ away from the _exact_ storyline; if I copied the FF7 script exactly, this story wouldn't be very suspenseful, now would it? Basically what I'm saying is that certain parts of this story _may_ be different from the original storyline.

Also, I know exactly who Aerith is with' in the afterlife. I'll leave it to you to find out later. Is it Zack or Sephiroth?

on with the story!

_------_

_Deep within  
my heart,  
there is a painful past.  
Even now,  
it aches,  
and once in a while, it sparkles..._

_Look up towards Father Sky,  
and embrace the yearning,  
depending on Mother Earth,  
and being brought up by her...._

_----- Fushigi Yuugi: "Flower, Bird, Wind, Moon"_

------

I warmed up to Elmyra pretty quickly. I told her about the labs, about how Mom and I had been there for basically my whole life. She understood. Of course, because of this, I could never go to school like the other children. Going to school, even in the slums, meant registering your information to the City of Midgar, and for me, it would be like waving a steak in front of those vicious ShinRa dogs.

So I would play outside, wander about and such. I was exploring through Elmyra's backyard one day...

----

The small chestnut-haired child scuffed through the litter of her mother's slum yard, when she felt a light bump on the top of her head. Puzzled, the child looked up, and saw the most peculiar thing.

There was a crack in the upper plate.

_Aerith, my dear... do you understand what this is?_

"No..." Aerith furrowed her little brow and crossed her arms. "It's just a lousy old crack."

_No, my silly daughter. The sun can shine down into your yard. This is a treasure that you must claim._

"Treasure? It doesn't look like treasure to me!" Aerith sighed, "It's just the sun."

_What can grow with sun?_

"Grass?"

_Yes... and what else?_

"Trees..."

_And?_

"Ah... flowers?"

_My dear, Elmyra will be able to give you seeds. I want you to plant them here._

"Why?"

_Flowers are lovely things, my child. Perhaps you can help others with them._

"Ohhh." Aerith uncrossed her arms and raised a finger to her cheek, tilting her head in thought. "How can I do that?"

_That is your decision my daughter. But first you must grow them. No one else in Midgar can do it. It will be your gift._

----

Gift. Haha... well, I suppose it was a gift. Other people would either enjoy them or ridicule me for growing them. Foolish things, humans are. They judge others at the drop of a hat, and yet are slow to realize their own faults. Yes I am human, but I am also Cetran enough to 'even it out,' I suppose. Humans did evolve from us, anyway. They evolved from us because they grew tired of our ways. I suppose it would be considered de-evolution in a sense.

Humans ridiculed me. I died for them. Oh, the irony. Would have made a great play, I think.

I managed to bring those little flowers into the sad world of Midgar. People gawked, they pointed, they stared, they asked if they were real. Being the age that I was, I didn't really do anything. If anyone was nice to me I would let them have one. It wasn't until I grew into my early teens that I began selling them on the upper plate. Mom's legs had gone quite bad and it became hard for her to get around. I became the money maker of our little household, despite her complaints. But we really had no choice.

I managed to bring home enough gil per day for a couple of meals. Once in a while there would be bad business days, and I would sacrifice my own meals to keep mom fed, or to get her medicine. She never knew this; I told her I had eaten up on the plate and brought her food home. They were rough times, but things could be worse.

It was soon after my fourteenth birthday that I heard news: the war was over. I heard so many souls screaming in the Lifestream, those killed in this stupid, stupid war. Wutai was reduced to a tourist attraction. Shin-Ra won. Again. As always. Now to wait for those dictating sons of bitches to take over another town, and another, and another... until the whole world was Shin-Ra. More Shin-Ra meant more of those reactors that they kept establishing... and that meant less Lifestream, and less souls. That meant less life, more miscarriages and deaths and wilting plants and dwindling life... until it was all gone. Shin-Ra would take over the Planet, and destroy the Planet.

And this thought scared my teen self out of my wits.

How ironic that that very same day, that day when the surviving SOLDIERs returned home, I would meet someone who would change my life drastically. A SOLDIER, with bright blue eyes and hair like a black chocobo's wild feathers.

That was the day I met Zack.


End file.
